The Trial of Severus Snape
by Lady Devonna
Summary: A sort of trailer for my main Snape story. A 23 year old Snape must appear before the Wizengamot and explain why he's been a death eater for four years.


A/N: Okay, this must be understood: This is a chunk out of the long Snape's Past fic I'm working on. I just hit a snag in the plot and wanted to write something, so I did this. It'll probably change quite a bit when I get to this point in the story, but it's an interesting teaser. There is a major mistake in here—at this point in time, Cornelius Fudge should NOT be the Minister of Magic. I forgot until I was halfway through and his personality was more fun than some unidentified random lady's. Otherwise, I'm choosing not to explain anything. With luck, you'll be intrigued, not confused.

Fudge looked down at him imperiously, and he felt the eyes of the entire Wizengamot boring into him. Something about being stared at accusingly by dozens of very important strangers was far more nerve-wracking than lying to The Dark Lord.

"You are Severus Cincinnatus Snape, of Sixteen Poplar Way, Surrey?"

"Yes." Actually, that was Vicky's house, and he'd simply been sleeping there for two days, but it was as good an address as any, and he didn't want to correct the Minister of Magic.

"And you have information regarding, er, Lord… Eh… Thingy?"

Suddenly, Sev was slightly less scared. For a fleeting moment, Fudge had reminded him a little of his father. "Yes."

"But you have also been accused of, erm, supporting… You-Know-Who. You were captured in company with Death Eaters."

"I know." He tried to shrink back into the chair he was seated in, which seemed very loath to let him move. Telling Dumbledore was one thing, or being dosed with Veritaserum to recite the story in front of the Order. He felt the tips of his ears begin to burn, and knew everyone could see. The slightest touch of color in a face as pale as his was obvious from a range of five hundred yards.

Fudge looked about as uncertain as he, Sev, felt. "Well, let me be sure this is all straight…" He shuffled through a sheaf of papers in front of him. Sev started playing "Baby You Can Drive My Car" in his head, which calmed him some.

With a cough, Fudge glanced over the paper again and spoke. "Last Tuesday, Alastor Moody received a tip that several so-called 'Death Eaters' would be attempting to assassinate several Ministry officials. When he arrived, the suspects scattered, but you, allegedly accompanying them, were hit by Moody's stunner. Moody recognized you and, for reasons of his own, thought it best to hand you in to Albus Dumbledore rather than to the dementors. Dumbledore questioned you and… Well, here you are." Fudge cleared his throat importantly. "You understand that your position is fairly, um, unpleasant. If Dumbledore hadn't asked me for this particularly, I'd have thrown you straight into Azkaban."

Sev shivered. He'd been in contact with only one dementor, at age seventeen, when he had been questioned by Magical Law Enforcement about his father with regards to Voldemort. He still had nightmares about it. "Yes, sir."

"So, I suppose you've got some way to exonerate yourself?" Fudge peered at him a bit nastily. "Seeing as you seem to have faked your own death and joined You-Know-Who?"

"Yes, sir." He swallowed, wishing for a good cup of coffee. "I- I thought I could stop him."

"You thought you could what?" The outburst had come from a small, timid looking witch Sev realized with a start had been on the quidditch team with him in school. She was a few years older than he was, but it was still a shock to see his contemporaries comfortably settled in the world.

"I… He killed my mother! And my brothers, my sister, my cousin, my godfather…" He felt the old temper rise and didn't bother to swallow it as usual. "I thought, maybe, if I could get close to him… It was hard. I didn't think I'd make it back. It took a lot of planning…"

Fudge stared at him. "You actually believed you could stop him?"

"Kill him, preferably." Sev swallowed. "If I'd told anyone they'd have tried to stop me. I reckoned dying was the best way to keep them out of it."

"Sensible…" Fudge shuffled papers again. "Just how did you plan to dispose of… Him?"

"Gain his confidence and… I don't know. Slip him something. I'm good with potions." This had always been the loose end of his plan, but Sev had always assumed there were a dozen ways to dispose of someone who trusted you especially if you had a knack for poisoning, cursing, and confusing in a myriad of ways.

"Your, eh, death was reported four years ago. This seems to have taken you some time?"

"Well…" Sev felt his ears going progressively redder. "It was sort of difficult… I had to seem like the perfect Death Eater, but I couldn't let him hurt anyone… Not where I could help it. It's not easy to mess up all the plans you helped make without it being suspicious."

"Alright, alright…" There was a long, pregnant pause. "Dumbledore vouches for you, gave me a full account. I just wanted to hear it from you so we'd have a statement. You have information for us?"

"Yes, though not a lot."

"Four years and not a lot?"

Sev felt as though he were being lectured by Professor Mcgonagall for knocking a bludger through a window. "It's all quite secret, you see. I've got some names, but Mr. Moody's probably after most of them. I was the Dark Lord's pet potionmaker, but I didn't see much of what went on all the same."

"Well, start naming!" Fudge was looking flustered, but excited.

"Er… There's someone named Kettleburn in the ministry under the Imperius Curse… Fitswilliam Kinsington is… Well, he's a muggle exterminator, strictly speaking. Gregory Warson, not sure what he does, but he's a nasty piece of work. Lilacia and Lilian Rotary are his bodyguards, not that he really needs them. Regulus Black, though I've got no idea what he gets up to besides whining about how much he has to do…" Sev shrugged. "That's all I know."

"Is You-Know-Who planning anything at the moment that we should know about?"

"Probably, but I wasn't informed." Sev was starting to relax. This was easy.

"Well, that will do for now. There's some talk of using you as a spy, but that's not an affair for a trial." Fudge shuffled some more paper. "Oh, right. All in favor of releasing Master Snape to Dumbledore, further fate to be decided later?" Every hand in the place went up. "Good, then you're free to go."

Sev felt like he'd been holding his breath. Grinning like an idiot, he stood up and watched the Wizengamot file out. Dumbledore winked at him as he swept through the door. The room was, in short order, quite empty.

He shook his head, which actually felt clearer than it had in a long time. It had been completely mad to think he could assassinate the Dark Lord on his own (and he'd been a bit mad at the time), but maybe something useful could come of it. At the moment, he just wanted to crawl back to Vicky's house for some sandwiches and a nap. Being on trial was tiring.

Feeling somewhat bleary, he left the room himself, and walked straight into his sister. It was somewhat painful, as she was about a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier than he was. "Vic? What're you doing here?"

"Your stupid snake made me do it," she said by way of explanation, about as lucid as usual. Sev disentangled himself from her with difficulty.

Diana, his other sister, who was younger, pleasanter, and possessed of normal human proportions, dropped a large cobra over his shoulders. "He missed you, I take it."

"Hi, Asclepius."

"_Where've you been, master?_"

"Not now." Even if he was cleared of all charges (whatever those charges had been—even the Minister didn't seem clear on that), he didn't want it widely known that he spoke parseltongue.

He looked up from his shoulder, where Asclepius was comfortably nestling, and got the biggest surprise of a very surprising day. Standing behind Vicky, looking rather smug, were Frank Longbottom, Alice Prewett, and Phoebe Sparrowhawk. "What… Are you all doing here?"

"Debating whether to give back your records. Mum wants them out of the attic, but I've liked having them, really." Frank punched him in the shoulder. "How was being dead, mate?"

"Lousy."

"We're buying you a burger, and then we want the whole story." Alice nodded to herself, the only one she trusted agree with her.

"Considering you all owe me money, I've been more flattered." Sev was still in a little bit of shock as his sisters and friends set off down the wide, echoing hallway. He was about to start after them when he realized Phoebe was still standing next to him.

"You could have told me, you know."

"You'd have followed me."

"And I'd have been able to help, you mook." One of her long, black braids slapped him as she shook her head. "Doofus."

"You'd have been in danger. I didn't want—"

"Will you stuff it? I'm used to your lone hero thing. Just saying, it might have worked if someone with a tad bit of common sense was entered into the equation. And everything besides your records is at my house, by the way."

"Why didn't you throw it out?"

"Sev, if we hadn't known you were alive, you'd be dead. And you're hard to fit. Getting you a new wardrobe would have been a headache for someone." She yanked his hair.

"You knew?"

"Can we accept that I know everything and move on?" She stood on her tiptoes and still had to pull herself up on his shoulders, but still managed to plant a kiss on his cheek and return to her starting position with grace and aplomb. "Come on, burger's on me." She turned into a large, black coyote and scampered down the hall after the others.

"Asclepius, am I insane?"

"_No_."

"Oh, good. Then I think everything might be back to normal."


End file.
